


Change

by NargleAdvocate



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Coping, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Forgiveness, Healing, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Pansy is a good and decent person so slightly ooc but intentionally, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, This story came out of nowhere and slapped me in the face
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 03:30:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12424155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NargleAdvocate/pseuds/NargleAdvocate
Summary: Change was a terrible, terrible thing. It left her yearning for what could no longer be. Pansy wanted to avoid it as much a possible.Of course, it never actually went to plan, did it?





	Change

Pansy stood on the muggle platform, stared at the wall that hid the entrance to the Hogwarts Express, and decided she's not as Slytherin as she thought, because she felt like crying and it's so unnatural for her. Everything was unnatural around her. It had all changed. She'd never been through the muggle platform entrance, never pushed her things on a trolley, never been there without her mother's comforting presence by her side. It was different, and she hated it. Change was a terrible, terrible thing. It left her yearning for what could no longer be. Yet, for some reason, she found herself running though the wall and onto the platform.

Hogwarts was different. It had changed. Of course it was different, after a war like that, how could it not be? It still bothered Pansy, shook her to the core, because the one place that for many years had stayed strong when everything crumbled around her was broken on the edges and it felt like a betrayal more than anything. Maybe it was. Her hands touched the cracks in the walls as she passed them in the hallways and the guilt seeped into her with each sight. She wanted to fix them. A quick question to Slughorn confirmed they were irreplaceable.

The glares and hexes shot her way felt like ants crawling across her skin and she hated the way it made her feel; like she had no right to be there, that she was worthless and a terrible person. Maybe she was. Doubt was a cloud that often hung above her, drizzling around her in a constant stream. She kept her chin up, the pureblood habits of self-preservation not quick to disappear, but all it got her was more sneers. She favored her time alone, the time she could stand in the astronomy tower and stare at the stars, or slink low in her dorm and cast charms that amused her for a while. They were always temporary escapes, but escapes all the same.

The first time she visited the herbology greenhouses, she hadn't expected to see Neville Longbottom there. He had changed, she supposed, from the snivelling frightened thing he was in first year. He looked strong in ways Pansy would never reach. Haunted, too, though she knew that feeling well. She found herself approaching him, the smell of dirt hitting her immediately. She almost wished she had a hobby like that, something she could spend her time doing.

Her first word to him was "Sorry." Pansy had always been more blunt than warranted. It was a fault she couldn't erase.

There was a tense silence for a while, before Neville responded, "Did you know, the Aloe plant is used in more deadly potions than healing ones? They're easily grown, too, which is why you don't see many seeds for it about. I think they're still more useful for healing."

Pansy supposed that was the most acknowledgment she was going to get. So she grabbed hold of it, and didn't let go, allowed it to pull her in. "Really? I've heard they heal burns, but nothing else."

A long time ago, it seemed, she would have hated the rain, hated the thought of getting her hair wet, hated the thought of the mud and the way the leaves on the trees seemed to droop with the weight of the water. But, after the war, there was more peace in the sound, or the feeling of it. So, she found herself standing in the middle of the ground, head tilted upwards, the cool rain sliding across her skin. She was shivering. That was okay.

"Hello."

Pansy jolted sideways towards the noise, yanking her wand out of her pocket and pointing it towards the intruder. She flinched, however, when she found the person at the end of her wand was, in fact, not someone looking to harm her, but instead Luna Lovegood, who looked as peaceful as ever, as if she didn't have a wand pointed directly at her face. Pansy lowered it.

"Hello," She replied, her stomach twisting.

And nothing else was said. Luna tilted her head upwards, much like Pansy had been seconds before, and fell to the charms of the rain. Pansy stared at the girl, eyes wide, trying to comprehend her behavior. Luna had no reason to stand there, and yet there she was, a shining gold juxtaposing the dark and gloomy background behind her. It was fitting, in a way. Pansy found herself with her head pointing to the sky again, and if it were possible, it seemed to be more comforting with the girl standing beside her.

And if Pansy's heart beat faster every time she passed Luna in the hallway, well, she could chalk it up to the cold she received from standing out in the rain too long.

Pansy sat in the Quidditch pitch field, her fingers picking at the grass below her. The sun shined down against her skin, a tingling feeling that Pansy knew would lead to a burn. Maybe it was masochism, or maybe she just stopped giving a damn, but she didn't think she minded. She could use some of the plants Neville had spoken about. There seemed to be many that combatted burns, and after all, it would be a waste to never use all the knowledge she had stored up. It made her laugh. She never would have expected, in a thousand years, that she, Pansy Parkinson, would actually care about plants in any way.

And maybe, maybe it was becoming a streak, making these friends that would teach her something new, because when Ginny strolled up to Pansy as if they had never been enemies, as if Pansy had never called her a blood traitor or other nasty names, and asked if she wanted to fly with her, Pansy hardly hesitated before she said yes.

Flying was a new experience. Pansy had always sat off on the sidelines like a good little pureblood girlfriend, and let the others have all the attention, because there were expectations and she had to follow them. When she kicked off and into the air, though, she wasn't sure if she had ever felt so alive. It took the breath out of her, and the world was suddenly so much bigger, and the realization hit that she had been missing out on something stunning for so many years. It was breathtaking.

"I'll race you to the forbidden forest."

Pansy turned her head, and there was Ginny, grinning with confidence Pansy most certainly didn't have. But, she was a Slytherin first and foremost, and she could never back down from a challenge. She smirked, and replied, "You're on."

Pansy could never focus in the library. Of course, she had never attempted to focus much in her previous years of Hogwarts, so that was a new discovery, but all the same, the chatter and scratching and moving drove her insane. She barely formed words as she scribbled them on a parchment, the latest theory essay for charms. Dread was the only word she could use to suitably describe how she felt about the topic. She hadn't slept well the night before, and had fallen asleep in class when all the useful information had been relayed. So she was stuck.

A cough. "Actually, the incantation for the locking spell is Colloportus, not Cullopartus." A pause. "I'm sorry for interrupting, I just thought you'd like to know."

Pansy blinked, not expecting the words that came from behind her, before slowly turning around to face the person who said them. She was met with bushy hair, and wide eyes that betrayed trepidation. Granger, and Pansy's mind flashed with words like 'mudblood'. She shoved the thoughts out of her mind, and with a gentle, if not slightly forced, smile, responded "Thank you."

It was Granger's turn to blink with shock, and Pansy couldn't help the childish giggle that escaped her mouth. Many people talked about change, as did she, that things had changed after the war, that nothing would be the same. And they were right, of course, but there were the moments that stayed the same, like how amusing it was to catch Granger in a moment when she didn't know something. Maybe it was the days of bullying that made it so for Pansy, but anything amusing was worth milking for all it's worth, so she allowed herself to laugh, even if it turned a few heads.

There was red on Granger's cheeks and she looked stunned, as if she wasn't sure what to do next. "I- um..."

Pansy stopped laughing to give her a small grin, ignoring the part of her mind that said the interaction wasn't okay. She was going to get past her pureblood ideals, one step at a time. Or a giant leap. "Do you think you could help me with the rest of this essay? Sometimes I just can't understand a word Flitwick says."

"Oh- well, uh, yes, sure, I can help you." Granger pulled out a chair and sat down, eyebrows furrowed as if she wasn't sure what she was doing. Pansy wasn't either.

The night felt like betrayal, and guilt, and Pansy couldn't sleep because the flashes of her father's death hung behind her eyelids and woke her up with his screaming. She preferred not to sleep, really, but sometimes she passed out, and there was nothing she could do. So she took to wandering the castle, hands tracing the edges of the stones, trying to focus on even breathing and not on the sight of her father's empty eyes. It was a difficult task. There were tears streaming down her face, she knew, but she couldn't bring herself to wipe them away. A bitter chuckle left her lips. Her posterity would be ruined if anyone saw her.

She should have taken one of Luna's cork necklaces, she supposed, when a figure slowly approached her in corridor. They were meant to give the wearer luck, after all, or something along that lines. Pansy couldn't claim her attention was entirely focused on the girl's words. The figure continued to approach, and Pansy stopped, fear seizing her heart. It was never a good feeling, and it was like choking, except no sound came out. The figure got closer, a shadowy outline, until it raised it's wand and cast the lumos charm.

"Parkinson."

Harry Potter. It was- Harry Potter was standing in front of Pansy, in the middle of the night, and not trying to kill her. She probably would have, in his shoes, because betrayal was one of the worst offenses in her mind and she still couldn't escape the burning shame that encased her when she thought about it. And then her eyes grew fuzzy and the tears were back, stinging and hot. She tried to cover her mouth, but the sobs still echoed throughout the empty corridor, and the repeated thought that she was being excessive and idiotic flashed through her mind.

"Are- Are you crying? Oh- Um." Potter stood stock still, awkwardness flowing off of him in waves. It made him look more like a teenage boy, than an adult who had defeated the most powerful dark wizard of all time. He was a teenage boy, Pansy thought, and it was deafening. He wasn't any older than she was, and she had tried to give him up to the Dark Lord. He had died, and come back, and fought when Pansy had cowardly backed away. She leaned against the wall and slid down to the floor, wrapping her arms around her knees.

Her lips moved before her brain could process it. "How do you cope with it all?"

They were both stunned by the question. Pansy clasped a hand over her mouth again, eyes wide, and her hands shook. She hadn't meant to voice that out loud. Potter's face had gone dark, and regret washed over Pansy in waves. It was definitely a sore spot, it wasn't meant to be touched, and Pansy had poked at it rather vigorously with her idiotic questions.

"Honestly? I don't," Potter started. Pansy's eyes shot up to meet his. He looked old, older than he was, and he seemed so tired. The bags under his eyes stood out even in the dim lighting, and Pansy didn't suppose hers were much better. He was skinny, skinnier than she remembered, and he had stress lines across his forehead. "But I know you're supposed to talk about it, and that helps."

Potter moved to sit down next to her, and they sat in silence, nothing but their breathing echoing down the halls. Pansy knew her traumas had nothing against Potter's, but she felt the need to voice it anyways. "My father died. By The Da... Voldemort. In front of me. He- He went out screaming and crying. I... I thought it was going to be me next, he had his wand pointed and everything, but my mother apparated away before he got the chance. She was brave... Braver than I ever was." Pansy sniffed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hands. "I never, really, um, got to say I'm sorry for what happened, that day..."

"Well, I had to die anyways, didn't I?" A mirthless chuckle. "I don't think you did anything wrong, really. You were just trying to keep the casualties low."

Pansy's nails dug into her knees. It was selfishness that had motivated her that day, the fear swirling in her mind until she couldn't bare it anymore. But it wasn't worth the breath to tell him that, and she didn't want to worsen the opinion he already had of her. So the silence hung over them again, and Pansy wracked her mind for something, anything, to say.

Potter did it for her. "How is Draco doing?"

Pansy blinked. That was an unexpected question, and she wasn't sure how she could answer. "He's... As well as expected." It wasn't saying much.

"Right." Potter stood up. Pansy's eyes followed. Surrealism surrounded the moment and Pansy could feel herself holding her breath, as if she were anticipating something.

"Hey, Pansy? Don't... Don't blame yourself, for what happened. We were all just trying to protect ourselves. And, some people did it in different ways than others."

They stared at each other for a few more seconds, before the moment closed and Potter was walking down the corridor, his shoes taping against the stone, and Pansy was left alone with her thoughts. They were buzzing around her head and left her swirling. Luna would say she had far too many nargles. Pansy would laugh. But Pansy was far from laughing in that moment. There were tears pricking at her eyes again, but there was a distinct lack of sadness in them. It was relief, in a way, the guilt draining out of her. Or, partly. She was always going to blame herself for it, just a little bit, but hearing Potter verbally say that it wasn't her fault- it was like everything around her had become a little bit lighter, and she could breath without feeling like she shouldn't be.

Pansy never would have expected help to come from the people she had once hated. But there she was, and she was sure she was an entirely different person because of it. She hadn't decided if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

But it certainly was a change, and Pansy wasn't sure if she was mad at it.


End file.
